


What Young Boys Like

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Elementary School, Gen, Kid Fic, One Shot, War on Frogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann and Newt are relieved that their odd offspring is making friends, but perhaps they should be more concerned for Herbert's affect on poor Dan Cain, the boy next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Young Boys Like

Herbert West could not have been called shy. On the contrary, the newest member of their third grade class spoke with astonishing clarity for his age, using very many big words that Dan didn’t know. The other students did not like Herbert’s prattling such that they felt ignorant in his presence. This coupled with Herbert's propensity for fits of sarcasm, led Dan to the honest conclusion that the social tide was turned against the new arrival. Yet inexplicably, Dan Cain found himself fascinated.

It was not wholly unwelcome when Herbert sat with him at lunch that first day. Dan did not have illusions that Herbert was interested in him specifically; the seat next to him was simply the only spot available. Megan was out sick and Dan resolved to go visit her tomorrow.

“You’re the one who lives in the house next to mine now,” Dan said, as the pale, bespectacled child slid his blue lunch tray on to the garish yellow table.

“Correct,” Herbert replied. He stared at the contents of the tray with obvious distaste. After minutes of tense deliberation, he picked up the roast beef sandwich and took bite, chewing solemnly, before nodding, setting it down and then popping a golden tater tot into his mouth. He grimaced.

“You don’t like tater tots?”

“Grease gives me a stomach ache.”

“ . . . wanna trade for somethin’ else?”

Herbert eyed him slightly suspiciously.

“Can I have your milk?”

“Sure!” Dan eagerly handed his carton over, glad to be rid of it. He did not expect Herbert to pull two straws out of his pants pocket (and who wore slacks to school anyways, didn’t he have shorts like a normal kid?). Herbert popped a straw in his own carton and then Dan’s, placing them both in his mouth at the same time.

“You’re weird.”

Herbert hummed and slurped the milk. They ate in silence until the bell.

* * * * *

Megan had the flu and did not come to school. So, by habit the two boys ate lunch together. The other student's looked at Dan with pity. Dan pitied himself. He missed Meg; although Herbert consciously chose his company the other boy seemed bored by Dan's presence. Herbert ate in silence, mumbling and frenetic over books he brought with him on every day since. Dan thought he would have liked open distain over Herbert's seeming disinterest in him. Herbert was disintereted in most people, it shouldn't hurt his feelings, Dan thought. But it did.

* * * * *

Despite his verbosity when prompted, Herbert was generally an anti-social child, all efforts to convince him to engage in group activities were met by explosive denial. He had “work” to do, although when asked what his “work” was he grew cagey and vague. By the end of the week the teachers had given up. Herbert was left to his own devices, a compromise that pleased everyone. He did all his work with speed and efficiency, and during recess, while the other children played sports, Herbert sat on the edge of the playfield, reading or finding bugs underneath giant rocks. And everyone was content to leave each other be.

* * * * *

On Friday Herbert brought a giant millipede inside the classroom, but in light of the other children’s screams he had been forced to release the creature outside. Now he was sulking, looking silly in a big bean-bag chair, the red blob almost consuming him. Dan came and sat next to him. It was free hour where they could work on their homework inside the classroom and chat quietly if they liked.

“Why did you bring the bug in?”

“I was gonna just keep him in my backpack until I got home. It’s not my fault he got out.”

“You were going to take it home?”

“Yes.”

“So, as like, a pet? If you want a pet you should get a cat. My cat’s name is Rufus.”

“Cats don’t like me.”

“Rufus will like you. Rufus likes everyone.”

“You have no way of knowing that. I bet he won’t like me.”

“Yes he will, because . . . because I like you. If you got a cat maybe he and Rufus could be friends. I bet you’ll like cats. Come to my house and I’ll show you.”

“No.”

Herbert had frowned then and turned his back to Dan. How frustrating! Didn’t Herbert realize Dan was trying to be friendly! Dan slouched back over his book; he really should not have been talking to Herbert at all considering everyone else disliked him so. He tried to concentrate on the paragraph before him (something about Christopher Columbus), but the words jumbled together in his brain and he kept sneaking side-glances to where Herbert had brought out a set of pencils and small notebook. Herbert was scribbling away furiously, his arms sweeping in and out, but Dan could not see what he was drawing past the flop of hair that hung over the page. Dan had never been good at drawing. He hoped Herbert would show him.

Then that head raised, the two locked eyes, and Dan found himself flushing for being caught so easily. Herbert only leaned in again, wrote a sentence down. There was a harsh ripping sound and suddenly Dan felt a piece of crumpled paper shoved unceremoniously in his hand.

_Come to my house on Saturday._

* * * * *

Dan had to jump to reach the doorbell, but his small child’s hand still hit the button and a sharp ringing could be heard from inside the house. He waited patiently, fidgeting slightly with the wheels of the skateboard he held tucked under one arm. There was some shuffling, as if the person coming to answer the door had difficulty walking, dragging feet across a carpet, then the tap of metal against wood, the jiggling of the handle, and the door was open.

Dan stared up at the man from his low vantage point, taking in the view of a cane, sharp cheekbones, thin lips and a truly atrocious argyle sweater.

“C-can Herbert come out to play?”

“My, my, who are you?”

“I’m his, um, friend?”

“Is that so? Bertie’s never told me about you.”

“Oh . . .” Dan rubbed at the back of his neck. “I guess he doesn’t think we’re friends yet. But, Herbert sits with me at lunch and he said I should come over. I live next door. I’m Dan.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dan. I’m delighted to see my son has been making some efforts to be social. He’s never been very good at that you know. Although, I do wish he’d give us some warning, I’m afraid our place is still quite a mess from the move.”

“It’s okay.” Dan nodded understandingly. The man at the door turned.

“Herbert! Your friend Dan is here to see you!”

In an instant, Herbert was in the doorway as if he had been poised and waiting. He blinked owlishly from behind his oversized glasses, arms crossed.

“He’s not my friend.”

The man (who must have been Herbert’s father) tapped his cane lightly against his son’s thigh and scowled.

“Don’t be rude!”

“I’m not. He’s not my friend. He’s my new ASSISTANT,” Herbert corrected. “I’ve been waiting ALL DAY for you. Come on!” Dan squawked as his arm was grabbed and yanked roughly inside the house. The skateboard went clattering to the ground.

“God’s sake, be gentle! You’ll rip the poor boy’s arm off.”

“We’re going to the basement,” Herbert declared, striding through the house with the iron grip pulling Dan along. The house was indeed unorganized, a fort of boxes and trashbags full of packing peanuts on the floor. Another man’s head poked out from over a kitchen counter, dark rimmed glasses and spikey hair. He had tape stuck to his cheek.

“A visitor wow! Hermann and I are busy so we won’t get in your way, but do you guys want some snacks first? Chips or popcorn or-”

“No, we’re fine!” Herbert yelled before Dan could say that, yes he would have quite liked some food.

But it was better he did not eat beforehand for when he saw the sight that awaited him in the basement his stomach churned. From his position at the foot of the stairs he could still see what lay on the table that took up the center of the room: three dead frogs with their insides spread wide open.

“They were already dead so Dad, not the first one you saw that’s Father, Dad said he could let me have them. We had them in the fridge and I’ve been waiting for a special time to dissect them and I knew you were gonna come this weekend so I set it all up.”

“Dis-disse-what?”

“Dissect! We’re gonna open them up. Didn’t you ever wanna see the inside of a body? I can’t open up a real human yet, but Dad says frogs are a good place to start. And you’re gonna help me, Dan!”

A pair of gloves, a toothpick and small plastic spoon were shoved into his hand, and Herbert bounded up to the edge of the table, buzzing with excitement.

What on Earth had Dan gotten himself into?

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a one off idea, but I'm willing to write more in this verse if people want. I'm also up to idea or prompts
> 
> i tried to keep the prose simple and not super stylized to keep with the relative simpleness of Dan's life, but i hope it didn't come off too badly
> 
> please leave a comment if you can, they mean the world to me!


End file.
